A Catalytic Affair
by The Madman From The Bronx
Summary: During her lifetime Queen Aravis had wished to end slavery in her home nation, and now the help of the Just King is procured to do just that... diplomatically. When one of Susan's tactless friends is brought along for the journey, chaos ensues. This is the tale of the fifteen days leading up to a fundamental change in Calormene history.
1. Road To Narnia

_Anvard, 1058_

For eight years Aravis had lived without her husband. Now she was tired.

Of course Ram had been thankful as he loved both of his parents dearly, and he couldn't bear for one to die within a year of the other. Aravis loved Cor like no one else, but when his time came, she did what would have made him most proud: gathered her grief and carried it, moving on. Her son already had the makings of a great king, greater even than his father had been. Cor's reign began five years after the Narnian monarchs disappeared and ended eight years prior to now. He had died rather suddenly with the cause being attributed to infection, leaving behind a mourning wife and a devastated son.

Now Ram had the same heavy look in his eyes, the same slight difference in posture that betrayed his sorrow.

"You can't! I'm King, and I order you not to!"

It was the only order Ram had given his mother in his life. Eight and twenty years had passed yet he was sometimes still as much a bairn.

"By the Lion, Ram, I am dying, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I don't accept it."

"Darling, you had better start accepting it now so it won't be as hard later on. Come now, you are a great king, not a great infant."

"_Please_!" he begged, tears standing in his eyes.

"Oh, son. If ever a child loved his parents too much, you were he. However, it is my time, just as it was your father's when it came to pass."

"You loved Father, too."

Oh, she loved him, all right. They married nine years into his reign.

"We helped each other through that. How will I do it again?"

"Marry."

"Mother, this is no time for jokes."

"Take it as a joke, then. When your grandfather died, Cor and I found comfort in each other."

"Forget marrying. Perhaps I'll find Uncle Corin. We always did like each other."

"There. That's a wonderful suggestion for yourself." A sudden pain entered her side. She seethed.

"What is it, Mother?" Ram asked, immediately at her side.

"I fear I have less time than I thought I did." The pain became sharper, quicker, more frequent. "There is still slavery in Calormen, yes?"

"Yes."

"Get rid of it. Free them all. Make my homeland a place of which I can be proud. And lastly—"

Ram took her sweaty hand.

"—most importantly—be the king I know you to be. Always remember how Cor and I loved you and how well we both knew you could do. You _are_ a great king, and spend every day trying to be a greater one. That was one of the many things Cor taught me. Honor your father. Honor your country. And please—"

He leaned closer.

"—my third love—is Calormen. Honor it, well."

The Queen spoke no more words and died comfortably in her sleep later that night.

King Ram took her wishes to heart. He remembered well the strength of his mother and the reign of his father and kept their love with him as he ruled in turn. Every day he strove to improve on the last one, and Archenland basked in the glory of the greatest forty years it had ever known.

And every night he swore he'd start on abolition the following day.

However, peace came at a great cost, especially after Narnia's Golden Age toppled. Their land became a residence for anarchy and squabbling ground among Telmarines and Calormenes and anyone else who fancied taking it for themselves. Ram never did, not even when Talking Beasts rushed into his court and begged him to help before their beloved country fell to the hands of those with baser motives. It was the lesser of two evils, he supposed, and over five thousand creatures witnessed his subsequent coronation.

Ram married and had children, four daughters and one son. He still didn't know how he did it, kept Narnia in tentative peace on top of Archenlandic affairs. Though allied, the countries suffered from such different problems that often he had to devote his time to them separately. Between that and keeping a family, he never had time for anything else. Narnians and Archenlanders alike called him "Ram the Great," long before he was deceased.

Yet he never forgot about Calormen, even in the times he was busiest. Eventually he had told his wife, who in turn had patted his hand and said that with how busy he was, how could he possibly think of anything else? Deep down, he knew she was right. Taking his attention away from the issues at hand was asking for them to fall apart. He couldn't let go of the idea and the belief that someday he'd be able to right it, no matter how much circumstances seemed to state the opposite.

His health was still good forty years into his reign in 1080, and others joked that their king would live forever. After outliving both parents, he became invincible to his beloved subjects, though he soon proved to be as mortal as the rest. When an assassin's arrow caught his throat, his wife and children were at his side. And while all the things he'd managed to accomplish were on his mind, the one thing he didn't was even more so. "Forgive me," he said.

_London, 1941_

Edmund Pevensie glanced at his watch and sighed aloud in the dark room. It was no use trying to sleep or divert himself from Narnia. Though he and his siblings had not discussed their last trip there for a while, he could tell it was still on each one's mind. Peter, though still pained from having left Narnia for the last time, was making a strong effort to grow up in his own world as well as he did in the former. He had become far more serious over the past year with the question of what was to follow after school. No matter how hard he tried to hide his discontent, it was clear that he was debating over whether to go to college or enlist in the war. Soon he would be of age. Lucy found herself listless and bored with her world, especially during the weekends with little to do. Most of these days she preferred to stay in her room reading accounts of medieval history. Buried in the company of her friends, Susan tried to forget about the wonderful times in Narnia to which she could never return. As with Peter, she did not speak much about how she felt.

And he—how did he cope?

Edmund had been falling out of sorts lately, too. There was something in the way it was harder to do things, which could only accurately be described as melancholy. Everything became harder after leaving Narnia for the second time. If he could pick up a sword or a crossbow one more time, or fight one more time, he would…

Utterly exhausted, Edmund ran a hand through his hair and flopped over on his stomach. Too late; he was at the mercy of his mind. He, Edmund, felt useless in Narnia and useless here and debated whether he even wanted to come back, now that Peter and Susan couldn't. Now that they wouldn't be returning to Narnia, how would that affect Lucy when again she went?

How would it affect him?

"But you will come back," a voice breathed in the room.

Edmund blinked, his room suddenly brighter. A great lion stood before him. "Aslan," he whispered.

"Why do you wish not to return? Surely you know you were a fine ruler to your subjects."

"Yes," said Edmund.

"Why, then?"

"I don't know," Edmund yawned. "It's just how I felt last time going there and back."

"You must know," Aslan replied gently. "Search inside you, Son of Adam."

A long silence passed. Edmund, brow creased in understanding, was about to reply before Aslan spoke again.

"Long ago, shortly after the final years of Narnia's Golden Age, Queen Aravis wished for her son to end slavery in her home country."

So Cor _did_ marry her, then. Edmund grinned to himself.

"However, he was unable to pursue it in the midst of imminent war. Over a thousand years have passed. Now that Narnia is thriving again, it is time for this wish to be granted, and it is solely your task to make it be."

"Lucy?" Edmund asked doubtfully.

"Lucy has matters of her own to sort through right now, and she would not see any of Narnia if she came. Thus she will not accompany you, although you will have help. As I recall you were working on public and private international law after the Battle of Anvard."

"_Jus inter gentes_," Edmund said. He hadn't remembered until now.

"Your work toward to the unity of all within Narnia may be finished." This last statement was barely audible. Now Aslan spoke in an even softer voice, "And now, my child, sleep." He breathed.

Edmund's eyes fluttered shut, and he fell into the deepest slumber he'd ever known that night.

...

"_Why any fool can tell you're dangerous._

_And with your arms around me, I should call for aid._

_You're dangerous, but who's afraid?—"_

Millie Strand lived for all the glares she was receiving now, singing loudly and dancing in the middle of the square. (There was no dancing in the scene in question, but who cared for semantics?) She and good friend Susan had just returned from the cinema. For her, _Road to Zanzibar_ simply never got old.

Susan?" Millie cut herself off humming the instrumental part, suddenly taking notice of her friend's silence. Everybody else was tired of her fixation with_ Road to Zanzibar_ that she'd seen twice since the weekend prior. Susan, however, seemed to be pondering over something else. "Are you all right?" Millie prodded again.

Susan Pevensie's dark hair was placid, groomed, and there were no bags under her eyes. There was, though, a subtle change in posture and absence in her eyes that had not been there on the short walk to the cinema. She had been spending much of her time with Millie, Heather, Myrna and a myriad of other friends during their first week of vacation, but only Millie could come today. Susan now looked dully at her and said nothing. While her friends were often a good distraction, they were sometimes also rather self-absorbed. Millie, who used to be sensible, had always been outspoken, but now she was a constant source of attention. Now, though, her erratic nature became predictable—and dull.

"You look like you've misplaced twenty dollars," Millie continued, imagining that she herself would be very upset in such an event. "Why so blue, though? Do you miss someone from the hols?"

The colloquialism sounded strange on her. Susan, for lack of any better explanation, nodded.

During their walk back to St. Finbar's, Millie nattered the time away. Susan said nothing; Millie inquired nothing but prattled on and on about anything and everything: how Anise had grown three inches in the past month, how Aunt would extend curfew when next she came home, and how she obtained the new five pairs of bobby socks she had bought with her own money. She talked about a letter from Father and an exhausted coffee house near her home that reminded her of one she had once been stranded atop of. She hoped Frank would still be proud of her as he was when she climbed to the top of the actual one and nearly killed herself falling off it. Susan did not smile at the anecdote. Being rather tired of Susan's brooding, Millie decided that there was no use of taking her mind off it—whatever 'it' was.

"So are you going to tell me about him?" Millie asked, abandoning reticence. Beating around the bush got old, and it simply wouldn't do anymore.

"I'd rather not," Susan said.

It ended at that.

This bored Millie.

"Why don't we run down to Maynards?" She suggested. "Perhaps we can buy some sweets there. Best things for the doldrums, I tell you. I have a couple stamps in my ration books, and I've got to run to the chemist's next door anyhow. Leave summer back where it belongs. A woman can be alone, you know, especially in this day and age. Forgetting him is your best bet, I wager, and if not, there's always next time. Anyhow, you said we aren't talking about it, so we aren't. What about those sweets? How are you on stamps?"

Susan gave a short answer to the affirmative.

"Are you all right?" Millie inquired, concerned. Susan's face had lost its color and she looked quite grim.

"Yes, I'm quite well."

"Only you've been quiet this whole time, and you're looking a little pale. Are you sure? Perhaps something at the chemist's might help."

"Millie, I'm fine."

"Obviously you're not, and you're not cheering up. That's my job. What're friends for?" Whereafter Millie winced, for she had just ended a sentence with a preposition.

Susan said nothing and continued with what Millie would refer to as sulking.

Susan Pevensie never sulked.

And she most certainly did not sulk over a boy.

"Susan," she purred, "No romance is worth the trouble. With school on all our agendas, who has the time? Don't worry yourself too much. How about reading to get your mind off? I'm reading James Hilton's latest. But that won't cheer you up," Millie added to herself in an undertone. "_Traitor's Purse?_"

"Thank you, no."

If it were any other person, Millie would've stopped talking then and there and let the drama run its course. This, however, was Susan Pevensie, one of the most sensible people she'd ever known and not very susceptible to folly. So, with one last ditch effort she asked if there was anything she could do.

With a plaintive sigh, Susan told her very guarded details about the man of whom she was enamored… tall, dark, and handsome. It could have described roughly two-thirds of the world's population and was explained in such a way as was customary of her, completely sensibly and stoically.

Yet the signs were there. She was twirling her hair and smiling sporadically. Her cheeks were rosy. Even her voice seemed to take on a slightly different tone as she told two anecdotes to her large-eyed companion… how they met, and how last they parted.

"—and I'll never see him again."

"_What?_"

Two or three other walkers looked over. Millie averted her eyes and cleared her throat, embarrassed.

"That's the worst of it, honestly, but life goes on. In a month I'll be right as rain."

"With chocolate, sooner." Millie said emphatically.

Susan did laugh at this, spirits lightened by the chat.

Millie, who had been completely in earnest, hid her disappointment.

"It's an experience that becomes easier with time. Goodness knows I've been there before."

"Perhaps we all have," Millie replied. "It's just a shame you two had so little time."

"Yes. He certainly wasn't my first love, but that was the first time I had to give up a romance before it had even begun." Susan summarized this with a dry laugh.

Millie pouted in response, forgetting that as a preoccupied student she wasn't supposed to care about love.

"Anyway, that's my story. You owe me one when you fall in love."

"Duly noted. We're here."

Maynards was pretty on the interior, and it always smelled confectionary, enveloping customers with a sweet sticky weariness akin to falling asleep in a cloud of candyfloss. Susan looked even less forlorn after buying her candy.

Millie turned to her. "Will you be all right walking back yourself? I've got loads more stuff to buy."

"Yes," said Susan, and the pair exchanged goodbyes and embraces before Millie walked into the chemist's with a hand in her handbag.

And frowned.

The Maynard's purchase wasn't there.

It must have gone with Susan by mistake… and she considerably needed it more. Nevertheless, Millie missed her candy. Of course it wasn't any great loss because she missed Hershey's most of all, and the Americans were holding all the Hershey's to themselves.

Stupid Americans.

Oh well, she thought as she went into the chemist's. Easy come, easy go.

Upon entering she picked up a few arbitrary things after which she huddled in the corner of the store where the sanitary napkins were, noting that so far there were no men present except the member of Home Guard who was off duty, and he was at the opposite side of the store. She smiled as she came in. She liked Home Guard in the same way she liked soldiers. They held none of the grimness of the battlefield, those who fought on the front, and were mostly as congenial as the corner constables. It was a shared accomplishment of strength and resilience, one that caused her to admire them on the whole.

Indeed the soldiers deserved all the food they got from civilian rationing.

A lazy country that wouldn't go to war because it was still aching over the year it served in the Great War, which wasn't much considering what had happened here on the continent, didn't.

Unbeknownst to Millie, Susan had run into her younger brother while passing the store on her merry way. Edmund had come looking for her concerning the outing they had planned for the next day: Lucy had to study for an exam. The siblings were about to leave when a person in the store caught Edmund's eye. He grinned, recognizing her from the times when she used to visit the Pevensie home with Susan's other friends. It had been years ago. He entered the store, and Millie, thinking that he must surely have come to buy something and would spend some time perusing it, dashed to the counter with her purchase. She was safe… or so she thought.

"Do you remember me?" He asked her.

Millie froze. "I'm afraid not," she said curtly without turning around.

Edmund frowned. Why was she so rude? "Edmund Pevensie."

"Susan's kid brother?" Millie asked, peering tentatively over her shoulder. She recoiled. 'Susan's kid brother' had grown about a foot since she had last seen him.

Edmund's frown deepened at the christening. "What does that make you?"

She dropped the boxes onto the counter, heaving, and glanced briefly at Edmund Pevensie. He looked somewhat disgruntled, and for good reason. If he was a kid, he certainly didn't look like one.

"This isn't the best time, in case you haven't noticed." Millie said, looking pointedly at the receptionist.

"You don't look busy," Edmund retorted.

"It was nice meeting you again, _Edmund_." Millie finally glared up at Edmund. He, however, was not finished talking.

"Besides, you can't be much older than fourteen."

"I'm _fifteen_!" She whirled around to face him indignantly.

"So am I!" He pointed out. "I'm not a kid."

"_Fine_," she snapped. "You're Susan's younger brother. Good day."

"Good you seem to understand that. Susan told me you were _smart_."

"I _am_ sma—!"

"Oi! Madam, please move the line along or leave it!" The woman behind Millie fidgeted indignantly.

Millie huffed as her fingers slipped on the sanitary napkins she was about to hand over to the chemist while they began to sweat. This was just awful. Why couldn't Edmund _go away_? "Don't you have anything to buy?" She snapped at Edmund desperately.

"No, I thought you could use some help—"

"Thank you _very_ much, but no." Millie interrupted, eyeing the clamoring line with masked horror. They stared right back. She knew her time was up. "That's all," she finally croaked and _dropped_ the large package on the floor. The receptionist practically shoved her out of the line to serve the next customer. Millie stormed to the door with bag in hand.

The door had plans of its own.

Little black and red checks and has-been dark brown curls from yesterday's rollers swam in Millie's vision. Her whole body clenched as she used every ounce of will power _not_ to kick the door, as it was made of glass. "_It's always you_," she sang through gritted teeth. "Dad-blamed door."

"Need any help?" That familiar obnoxious voice asked.

The door rattled several times in response accompanied by what sounded like "Damn it," poorly disguised as a cough.

"Well, _I_ have places to be." Edmund replied, striding over and putting his weight against the stubborn door.

Millie dropped her merchandise, balled a fist, and threw it into the door. This turned out to be unwise, as moments later she was nursing a red mark and waving her hand everywhere. More quiet cursing followed.

Edmund snickered meanly and shook his head.

Perhaps she deserved it, Millie admitted to herself. So caught up in this world was she that she didn't notice the shapes around her getting blurrier and blurrier. Finally the world started falling away.

Edmund jumped as the rude girl grabbed his arm.

"What's going on?" Millie trilled.

"You'll see," he replied gruffly. Why was _she_ allowed to come?

"Is the world ending? Why isn't anybody looking? Don't they care? What would Auntie say? I have sisters to care for! They're too young to d—"

"Will you shut up?" Edmund hissed.

All too soon, Millie shut up of her own accord, too transfixed watching each building transform into a hillock and each sidewalk flushing green. "Wh—wh—where _are_ we?" She finally asked.

Edmund mumbled something that she didn't hear.

Was there a portal and a room, just like Leroux's _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra_? Nothing else came remotely close to fact. It became immediately apparent, though, that it was an outside environment. Could it have been Zanz… no, it couldn't have… but still, nonetheless…

"Wow," she whispered, fear gone. "My own _Road To_!" She closed her eyes.

"It's _Narnia_. I highly suggest you open your eyes now."

* * *

**OK, so that's... a start.**

**Regarding Aravis, I have a fantasy of her growing up to be Eleanor of Aquitaine, or at least inheriting her acerbic wit. It's fun writing strong female characters who have turned elderly. Regarding ages—yes, they are far closer to movieverse than bookverse. *bows head in shame* I mean, in general they're just really screwed up, possibly enough to qualify it as an AU. **

**So… OC. Annoying? Endearing? Humorous? **

**I've gone to great pains to ensure that Millie isn't a Sue, so tell me if she seems to be leaning that way at any point in the story. I will proceed to perform an exorcism on her. She seems like the odd one out now, but later on she *might* prove to be useful. Lucy can kill her for taking her place.**

**The period details should be right (ideally) with the exception of ****_Road to Zanzibar_****, which was released in April of '41, and I highly doubt it would've made it to England by September. Nevertheless I wanted to incorporate it somehow here (along with the Marx Brothers, who might be coming later), and the song turns out to be a nice foreshadowing tool… venturing out to the unknown ****_with_**** the unknown (although Edmund, disappointingly, is not dangerous, at least to those who fight on his side).**

**The use of bairn: it's Scottish/Northern English. Somehow I see how this could be an Archenlandic word.**

**On the resolution of conflict of laws I've done a little research, but I'm no law student. Tell me if anything there seems wrong, but I thought _Jus inter gentes_ was apropos since it means "law between the peoples" and deals with international human rights.**

**Anyhow, does anybody like this? It's really weird, I know—everything about it is weird. Should I continue or crawl back into seclusion? I'm planning a few fics that are a lot more canon (no OC's), but I digress. PLEASE REVIEW.**


	2. Truth and Folly

"Perhaps they had a spill, and I'm suffering from the side effects. Of course, nothing _smelled_ off in there, so it must be something wrong with me. Well, wait—let's not be rash. I'm not condemned to the loony bin yet. _That's_ a relief. What else is there? Hmmm… other causes for hallucination… got enough sleep last night… That must be it, then! Oh, how I'd wanted to avoid the worst, but I'm going mad," Millie said shrilly. "I'm surely going mad!"

"You're not. Now will you shut up?"

Millie huffed but stayed silent for the next half hour or so.

"These aren't Narnian landscapes," Edmund said to himself.

"What landscapes?"

He sighed.

"Can I at _least_ know where we are?"

This would be a long story, and one he didn't have time for at the moment, Edmund thought. "We are somewhere in the world of Narnia, though I doubt the country," he said aloud.

Millie blinked. "I've never heard of the country and—pardon me—a world?"

"Yes. Narnia is a world different from our own."

"How did we arrive here?"

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

Millie contemplated this question. "No," she said shortly.

"That'll have to change," Edmund muttered.

"Why will it have to change?"

"You'll see soon enough."

"Not to bother you, but I'm getting a little bit stressed out. We must have been gone a few hours at least."

"You needn't. No time passes in our world during the time we're here."

Millie stopped abruptly as her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. "How _is_ this possible? Is it similar to Einstein's special theory of relativity, but for teleportation?" Blinking, she jogged to keep up with Edmund. "Moving through space, not time?"

"I doubt it."

"Then how is it—"

"I don't know. Nobody knows." He snapped.

"Has anybody _asked_?"

Edmund just stayed silent. Millie, in turn, shrugged and faced the dry horizon. What unsettled her was that desolate, utter silence. Crickets didn't chirp, birds didn't sing, and snakes didn't rattle (which seemed the most applicable in this situation). The ground was dry, and she could feel the papery heat of it even through her shoes. Then she wondered if it was prudent to be wandering around with a stranger unsupervised, but supposed that with Susan's brother, little could possibly go wrong.

Of course, that was before she heard a roar that made even the sands retreat.

"Desert lions?"

This time, Edmund looked just as surprised as she did. Desert lions were known to frequent the Great Desert, but what if—

"Am I going to get an explanation anytime soon?"

"Depends," Edmund stopped walking, dark eyes scanning the horizon. "For now, don't move."

Millie stopped walking and tapped her foot, little puffs of sand billowing each time. The roaring was getting closer.

"Didn't I ask you not to move?"

Scowling, Millie tried a trick her music teacher had taught her—tapping her toe inside the shoe. (It was the only thing she had taken away, since music never came easily to her.) Nevertheless, there wasn't a tempo, and standing still was simply a demand she couldn't meet. "Can I talk?" She asked instead, hoping that the tone somehow twisted itself into a rhetorical-sounding request.

Apparently, it didn't.

"No," Edmund replied simply. "No moving, no talking, and—really, is it that hard?"

"Yes, actually. You ought to try it sometime. Ah!" Millie yelped, picking up a stick and brandishing it whichever way it would go. "What was that?"

Another snarl sounded, just like the one the pair had just heard.

"Stop drawing attention to us!" He hissed.

"What, then? Just sit here and get _eaten_?"

"I'd be able to think if you could stay still for a damned second!"

"I already tried that."

"Well, try harder!"

Millie clamped down hard on her lip and hunched her shoulders forward in effort though her narrowed eyes said enough.

"That's better. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" Millie replied brightly, then smacked her forehead. "Oh, drat."

"Marks for effort." Edmund's eyes narrowed as his vision focused. "Susan'll kill me for getting to come back here so soon."

"Wait a minute. How come you can talk, and I can't?"

Edmund sighed. "Because you are unnecessarily loud."

"What has Susan got to do with this?"

"She's been here. All of us have."

The animal sounds came closer.

Millie gasped suddenly.

Edmund looked around in alarm.

She snapped her fingers. "The _man_," she realized.

"What man?"

"Susan told me she fell in love and she'd never get to see the fellow again."

"Caspian," he muttered.

"What?" Millie barked.

"Shhhh!"

"Edmund, can you tell me what's happening? _Please_?"

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

Well, at least she tried to be diplomatic. Please was a new addition to her vocabulary, especially during the menstrual cycle. If she couldn't chat with this stiff, she'd keep it all internal—talking to herself. Yes, that sounded just fine. It was just a matter of: 'how are you doing, Millie? Well, I hope? Yes, yes, I'm quite fine. I appear to be in a desert although it's not one of earth's deserts because—well, I'll be damned! I don't even know why! Susan's little brother told me so…yes, I could be stuck here with anyone if magic is possible, and I'm stuck here with somebody whom I don't like, or, more accurately, who appears to detest me. I'd really have no problem with him otherwise. He keeps telling me to shut up in a manner that is wholly irritating. I wish I weren't menstruating.'

Millie smiled to herself, quite pleased with her progress.

'And Susan's young man is from here, the sunny world of… Ninny-a? Oh, bother, I've already forgotten! He must be a looker, if Su left her senses for him. I wonder if he looks like James Mason.'

Edmund turned and gave her an odd look, apparently surprised that she could hold out this long.

She beamed in reply. 'Now where was I? Hmmm, don't remember. It sounds like there are lions out and about, but I'm really not sure. After all, if all this is before my eyes, it could mean I've finally gone daffy for all the sense it makes. Still, it's novel, if nothing else. I'm trying to remember any books that even remotely began to cover an experience such as this. I'm also failing. Isn't it strange how it's possible to try and fail at the same time? There _is_ that time I was falling to the ground, and everything suddenly came in slow motion, how I was trying to right myself and falling anyway. If only gravity could be stopped in certain cases. Some people have died after all, and gravity's all to blame—well, with perhaps a bit of stupidity thrown in in most cases. I've got no idea what else to think about now. It seems that there are a million things I've got to do, a million responsibilities coming to mind. There are groceries to run back to the house. And yet here we are, in the lovely if rather arid land of Ninny-a."

"It's not Ninny-a. It's Narnia."

Millie's head snapped around. "Does this world make telepathy possible, too?" She asked in wonder, momentarily forgetting about her vow of silence.

"No. You've been muttering aloud for the past fifteen minutes."

"Oh." She said. "Well, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wasn't really listening until you announced that you were in the world of Ninny-a. It isn't Ninny-a. It's—"

"Narnia," Millie replied through gritted teeth. "I know. And I do recall saying I was in the _land_ of Narnia, not the world of Narnia."

"Well, if that's true, then you're mistaken."

"What do you mean, I'm mistaken?"

"I don't know which country we're in at the moment, but it's not Narnia. Or at least it's not the Narnia to which I'm accustomed. We are, however, within the world of Narnia. That much I do know."

"Wait a minute. How am I allowed to talk all of a sudden?"

"The sounds are dying down." Edmund still looked wary though slightly less alert.

Millie turned to him. "So, you've been to this place. Narnia," she corrected herself.

"Yes. Though I admit I'm at a bit of a loss as to why you're here, as well."

"Not half as much as I am. Is there—is there any way to get back?"

"Yes, but never until we've accomplished something. Usually this means Narnia's in trouble."

"I'm—I'm really not going crazy, then?"

"No, you're not."

"I—I feel as though I must've been knocked in the head, though. I mean—all of this. How is it possible?"

"Don't worry about that now."

"It's a little hard not to."

"Well. Now I see why you get on so well with Susan."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She reacted much the same way when she first came a year ago." Edmund replied dryly. "I suppose I ought to warn you. Some of the animals talk here, though I doubt it where we are."

"Just like in Dr. Doolittle!"

"Do you always draw comparisons to novels?" He turned to her in annoyance.

"Yes. Films, too. It's a bit of a bad habit of mine." Millie said sheepishly.

He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "Would it help for you to imagine you're in a novel right now?"

"Yes. Yes, by Jove, it would! Thanks, Edmund!"

"Only this isn't fictitious," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Silence prevailed for the most part, with Edmund pointing a few things out about Narnia's general history.

It was all so utterly bizarre, and as soon as Edmund explained one thing, another thing he'd explained earlier was pushed clean out of Millie's head. Nothing could surprise her anymore, she had been sure. How quickly everything could be thrown upside-down. Yet it was also reminiscent of the devastation she had felt at the war's damage alongside every other citizen with similar sentiments. This was a different kind of war, though, one she couldn't quite place a finger on. The only viable guess was that it was a war for her sanity.

Nonetheless, her musings inexplicably faded and blurred, and a certain weight on her posture was lifted. This place was infiltrating her mind as if through a spell. Not so horrifying anymore, now that she was getting used to it, Narnia took her as it took many others—and a new round of roars couldn't even displace her spirits.

A shape on the horizon became sharper with every step she took, growing limbs as the pair approached. Its size was already apparent even from a distance, and it was nearly the color of the sands around it—in fact the only way to tell that anything was there was an outline against the sky and the shadows the unidentified animal left. What was color became fuzz, and what was fuzz became hair. A circular head became a mane, and feet became clawed. Well, maybe it was friendly. However, when it raised its head and roared, moving its paws in the sand, Millie stopped short.

Her sense of peace disappeared.

It was a lion, the greatest lion she'd ever seen. Millie said a quick little prayer in her head for the first time in months and stood as still as she possibly could.

Then, it moved its paw and gave her a small frown.

"What is that?" She shrieked, diving behind Edmund.

"Ah! You'll make me go deaf!"

"You would show your devotion only when you have need of me, Daughter of Eve?" it growled, setting its stern eyes upon her.

"It…it _talks_?" she squeaked to Edmund.

"Aslan." Edmund knelt grimly, leaving Millie in full view behind him.

Millie stuttered and stumbled backward.

"Rise, King Edmund. Surely now you know of what I spoke. You are in the Great Desert, a day away from the outskirts. At its western border you will meet a young man named Haruni who will lead you to your destination."

"So we're in Calormen, then?"

"Yes," the lion purred. "On her deathbed, Aravis wished for slavery to end in Calormen. Her son was preoccupied with ruling two countries at once and could not abolish it before he was killed."

"How?" Edmund asked.

"A Calormene arrow."

"And no one succeeded him in Narnia," he surmised.

"That is not relevant to your current task here, my son," the lion reprimanded, but kindly. "Since you have left, one month has passed. For the past fifteen years Murad Tisroc has reigned."

Millie herself couldn't get past the slavery issue. What kind of barbaric land was this? Slavery was rid of a hundred years ago!

With that, the lion turned to her. "You have a purpose here too, Millicent."

She looked up sharply, not remembering the last time somebody used her full name. On second thought, it was probably when she broke her aunt's compact mirror by accident a week ago.

He chuckled before continuing. "You will aid King Edmund in this endeavor."

"But—how can I help?" she asked, wide-eyed. "I've—well—ah—never done anything even remotely related to this!"

"You will learn of your capabilities later on. Until then, my daughter, I will be watching."

Then… "My—uh—m—m—ma—my—my ap—ologies!" She finally blurted. "For before."

Aslan gravely bowed his head. "You are forgiven." He turned back to Edmund. "No one did succeed Ram, but Caspian is working swiftly to restore order to the kingdom. He has already made notable progress. Seeing this through will help bring peace to all the countries and ensure the welfare of your own."

With that he turned and simple walked away, followed by a wave of sand. After it settled, he was gone.

That clarified his presence here, Edmund thought. This would tie things up, provided it's done with minimal bloodshed. Hopefully this Haruni fellow would see his rhetoric, and if he was at all experienced in insurgence, he likely would.

Edmund took about four or five steps without hearing an additional set. Puzzled, he turned.

Millie stared at the spot Aslan had vacated some time ago, mouth open in an unflattering manner.

Sighing, he walked back to the muddled girl. "No time for tarrying," he said.

She turned to him. "_King_?"

"Yes."

"But you—you didn't tell me!"

"Something tells me you wouldn't have believed me."

"Of course I would've. Don't be silly."

Edmund chuckled. "Right."

Millie crossed her arms and frowned. Nobody had any business being correct all of the time. In fact, she kept waiting for him to bring up her full first name and tease her about it like everybody else did when they found out, but he didn't. It was rather diplomatic of him—very diplomatic of him, as a matter of fact. She cast him a sidelong glance.

Maybe this Edmund—er, King Edmund, apparently—wasn't so bad after all. Nobody who was related to Susan could be, and Millie _had_ been rather rude at the chemist's… "What _is_ this place, anyway?" she asked, turning to him. "It's beautiful… almost too true to be true."

"You haven't even seen Narnia yet."

"I thought we were i—" Confusion swept her face before it dawned on her. "Oh," she said. "The country."

"Yes. The country."

"But it's a country that's clearly part of a utopic world. None of it can be bad."

Something about Edmund's following laugh sent shivers down her spine.

Millie stopped, putting her hands on her hips and frowning. "All right, then. What bad _has_ happened here?"

"Well, I'm not sure I should tell you in light of the fact that such stories lie in the land therein we're heading."

Oh, dear.

"Calormen has long been a land where injustice has prevailed at the hands of opportunists. Telmar was, too, until it was dissolved. Keep walking."

"When?"

"Approximately one month ago."

"Oh. What happened to it?"

"Narnia took it."

"Ah. Conquest. Imperialism isn't good, you know. Look where it got us. Yes, Napoleon had quite the success at Austerlitz, but trampling the Soviets was a big mistake. He had that coming to him. _Then_ we tried our hand at it for a while only to lose everything and then some in the Great War. Of course many things determined the eventual downfall, not imperialism, but it didn't last, is my point."

"America had its share."

Millie whirled on him. "How did you know I was American?"

"'Gramme'" was misspelled on the list you wrote on the back of the chemist's receipt."

She paled.

"We took Telmar because they revolted against the Narnians when they were without a ruler and too weak to defend themselves." Edmund's face was placid, but his voice was cool with rage. "In our absence the Telmarines continued to oppress our subjects until they were thought to have died out and took the land after that."

Note to self… Open fat bloody trap: insert foot. Again. Millie wanted very much to be buried in a sandstorm. Maybe this still wasn't a _real_ world with a _real_ king, but at this point it was clear that she was going nowhere soon.

"I'm sorry," she turned away. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Where were you when all this happened?"

"Again with the implications?" Edmund asked icily.

Millie winced. "No. Just trying to understand."

"Between the first and second times my siblings and I came to Narnia, approximately thirteen hundred years had passed."

"_What?_"

"It was only one year in England, but that apparently equated to over a millennium here, at least in that particular instance," he explained patiently. "Time doesn't pass equally between worlds. Obviously our reign stopped when we disappeared and went back to England, and things rapidly fell into disrepair. By the time we returned, everybody was gone, and our castle, Cair Paravel, was in ruins."

Millie listened wide-eyed to the tale of the Pevensies and their aid in Caspian's ascent to rule, how together they restored peace between the countries at odds.

"And Susan? Did she get married to Caspian?" she asked with a grin.

"_That's_ the part of the story you were captivated by?" Edmund gave her a short look of disgust. "No. We returned shortly afterward."

"Well, Susan seemed really heartbroken," Millie said by way of excuse. "I always thought she'd spent more time with him."

"Yes. I never really understood her crush on him."

"Crush?! She _loved_ him!"

"For the past few weeks I've had to listen to Susan drone on with the same rubbish, and that was bad enough. I'm not going through it a second time with you."

"But—"

"But nothing. Shut up."

"I _won't_ shut up!" Millie cried. "That's very unfair."

"Indeed. I think you're rather incapable of it."

"I'm _not_!"

"You proved it earlier, Millie. And if not, prove me wrong now. You seem to like a challenge."

She was so affronted by this that she proceeded to give him the silent treatment, forgetting in the meanwhile that this was exactly what he wanted.

And Edmund was happy.

This place seemed to have extinguished all powers of speech for the girl as she held back a flinch, remembering the less-than-articulate manner in which she had presented herself. Millie continued to walk, thoughts swirling in her head.

_Your country isn't real._

_You're just a kid._

_And you're as bad as Napoleon was._

All this she'd said—or implied—to a king.

Well, it couldn't be helped, she petulantly thought to herself. It wasn't as if he were a _real_ king. After all, this wasn't a real country, or even a real world. It couldn't be… could it?

Oh! she grimaced. These cramps!

Then she looked over in alarm lest she had accidentally spoken the latter line aloud, but Edmund continued without any sign of hearing her. She suppressed a sigh of relief.

Yes, he was quite happy…for a while, at least.

Two hours of rumination later, Millie was no longer angry. "So what exactly are you king of?" The sun was beginning to set.

"Narnia."

"The country."

"Yes."

"Only Narnia."

"Yes."

"And the Tisroc is the king of Calormen, I assume? Well, ruler, rather."

"Correct."

"I think I understand now."

"Good."

"You're getting tired of my questions, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I swear I'll get the hang of it soon. The hang of everything else, I mean. And once that's out of the way, you don't have to be nice anymore."

Edmund found he couldn't help laughing outright at this.

"What?" Millie blurted, trying to think of something else to say. "You agree, don't you?"

"Can we put it in writing?"

"Why, you—you're making fun of me!"

"Millie, every instance you keep your temper and refrain from acting and speaking foolishly, I shall be _very_ nice."

"But I haven't—" and there she stopped short, for it was true. She knew it, and he knew it. "Why do you speak so formally?" she asked instead.

"Being ruler of a country. Had to learn certain things, including a new manner of speaking."

"Ah."

They fell into another comfortable silence.

It was growing cooler, and Edmund's eyes wandered out to the line where sand met sky, blurred by the ever-darkening colors. They weren't even close to the edge of the desert and would arrive there tomorrow at earliest. Haruni, he reminded himself. How many Calormenes did he have working toward this cause, and—more importantly—how many of them were considered trustworthy? He and Susan had been working on correcting some of the more pressing issues in foreign affairs, slavery included, but everything became undone when he and his siblings followed the White Stag and ended up back in their own world. It had given Calormen ample time to reassemble their strength and fortify their economic means. Slavery had spread to everything short of Narnia, Archenland, and Ettinsmoor, and even arguably to Ettinsmoor, if one considered eating other creatures as a form of slavery in the short term.

Then he turned to the largely tactless girl (who couldn't be ignored) walking a few paces ahead, going apace despite her shortness. She hadn't been at all what he expected from his memory. Besides being tactless, she was testy, foolhardy, presumptuous, loquacious, and haughty.

But at least she wasn't stupid.

"You're quiet," he noted.

Millie nodded from ahead.

Edmund sighed. "Suit yourself."

* * *

**Response to Rei, MY ONLY REVIEWER SO FAR (hint hint): First of all, thank you. Yes, Millie will grow and develop as a character. Believe me, I can barely stand her at this point. (See below.) haha  
**

**General AN: Yes, we all sort of hate her right now, but at least she's a point of ridicule for me.**

***points and laughs***

**Some people react to being in Narnia more gracefully while others react… far less gracefully. It's pretty apparent where Millie is on that spectrum. In the meanwhile, fear not: she is holding out on all of us… including me.**

***scratches head***

**Anyhow, I hope you lovely people are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. More characters are coming in the next chapter. And they're totally not obnoxious.**


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